chronicwriter!

"Mr. Prason Christopher Robin" is one big time blogger, he is the official owner of "www.chronicwriter.com" and writes under the pen name of "chronicwriter" famous for his red undergarment. Incase, Mr. Thackrey is reading this,which I doubt he will, chronicwriter shall delete his facebook account and deny the links with the blog. One thing I curiously need to know, why do south Indians have names worth giving wrist aches, and in some cases even tongue aches for illustration try to speak "Pilavullakandi Thekkeparambil Usha"?

Chronicwriter’s last post "save the tigers in the woods", did put me in a funny state. I read his blogs fortnightly not on a daily basis. So yesterday while suggesting a few juniors of mine interested in reading blogs, I without hesitation referred them to the ingenious poster-"chronicwriter". A few of my suggestion takers were girls!

A few moments later when I for my own updating turned to chronicwriter's blog, I was surprised to see his first adult post(it's not that I didn't enjoy it; he is too awesome not to make anyone laugh). So basically I made a "poo-poo" of myself.

On saturday I had a test in my CAT coaching test, and I am proud to inform everyone despite my best efforts( which include keeping the most beautiful girl's picture near me, copying from the nearby person, giving the test with katrina kaif's name) I topped. Please don't ask me from which side, but I topped!

We had a GD session after that which humorously turned into a fish market. A batch mate of mine, pronounced a beautiful sentence on marriage which ran thus-“marriage is not an institute where you experiment things”. Even in case it’s an institute I am eager to join it, please tell me the exam details. I will work doubly hard and make sure I top this exam, and this time from the front.

While typing this blog I received a chat message on gtalk from a CSE friend:

abhijeetranjan90: tomorrow is total mass bank for cse guys…

ajay: cool;

bt class also consists of girls…

abhijeetranjan90: dey can attnd

ps: 1)I would like to seek forgiveness from miss X for not including her in this post. I tried my level best but could not fit her in here somehow. I promise her a spot in the next one, and no charges.

2) My list for 14th February is up to date and complete, anyone interested can contact me at 14febonedaylover@gmail.com or st.valentinerocks@gmail.com

3) This is a free advertisement for chronicwriter, i wont regret the same from his side.

Uphill time going on, and harder times ahead!

It seems I have filled my plate with lots of trouble to last for my entire leftover engineering life of one and half years. The onus(es) I am trying to handle presently are the TPR post(Training and Placement representative) of my ECE batch, being the Executive Editor of SRIJAN the institute's annual magazine and not to forget my eight hours of CAT preparation classes on weekends. With only a month to go for the printing of magazine the whole SRIJAN team is haywire. To meet the deadline of 20th april release we have to start working nights, and today is the first night! Hell is in front of Saurav and Rajeev the team's two designers.
But no regrets, i am enjoying the pressure!

The side-effects of workload has started to show itself. I have started having nightmares. Last night Abhra, the magazines student editor, and Karan, the Managing editor, were running behind me with the previous year's magazine and dagger in their respective hands.

I had my birthday on 26th January. There were a few surprises waiting for me. One was, the X of my previous posts messaged me happy birthday and the second was, my blogs first post to whom I had dedicated called me. Unfortunately, i couldn't pick up the phone and had to settle by replying to her message. I recieved a deo from two of my classmates, most probably they pitied my irregularity at bathing and hoped it would help, however, as I am allergic to perfumes and deos had to tuck it in the suitcase. Thanks anyways yet I prefer friends who come empty handed.

Yesterday was my parents 23rd marriage anniversary and I turned out to be the last one to wish them. Thanks dad and mom for getting married and bringing me to this earth. Moving on to today; today was Ghandhi's assassination day. For the first time in my life I forgot to stand in silence at 11:30. Sorry Mr. Ghandhi! I was late by three minutes today. Hope you rest in peace.

Moving to lighter notes, we have Valentine's day coming. I am eagerly looking forward to it. I am hoping to propose a lot many this year. My fingers are crossed, and I seriously pray St. valentine gets a bit emotional and pities me...

A help from your side- make sure you send a pink boxer to Mr. Pramod Muthalik, a Ram Sene leader. He is greatly active in beating up couples visiting discos and seen roaming on 14th feb.
(google pink chaddi campaign for more details!)

Another 365 days of your life!

Look back at 2009 and you will surely find at least one moment that crystallizes out separately. Few of us lost someone whom we loved, some of us found someone who made 2009 remember-able, few of us tried a few new things out of which some failed and out of which some clicked. After all 365 days is not a small number! Lord Krishna’s words, “Good and bad, success and failure both make a life. Life without one of them is alike a world of sugar without salt.”

One such memory of 2009 is properly etched in the cerebrum portion of my approximately 500gm brain. I visited “Vaishnodevi” last march, and I saw something. The “something” was not something extraordinary; it was a pretty common scene to be seen in nearly every temple- a mother of a cute kid was asking her son to fold hands in front of the goddess. Nothing unusual! Nothing spectacular! My mother asked me to do the same thing when I was some five year old. However as far as I can recall she never gave me a reason that satisfied me on why I should fold my hands in front the idol.

Parents usually tell their children to do things and to abstain from rest. However, few are open up to discussions on the same. Marriage is one such thing. Love marriage in most parts of our country is still a taboo! Marriage decisions are made by our parents, amongst our parents for a life their children have to live. Haryana is a leader in murdering their children,who break these rules, in case the children fall in love with a person of the same village. “Khap Panchayats” are well known and well heard of taking decisions about life and death (as a matter of fact district and session courts even don’t have this right!). A few were killed and a few were banished the last year.

Similarly 2009 was memorable for mother India even. “Nations are born in the hearts of poets, they prosper and die in the hands of politicians”. Mr. Surendra Sharma, a comic hindi poet, well said once-“it was better when we were uneducated at least we voted for person like Sardar Vallabh bhai Patel and Lal Bahadur Shastri; and now when we claim we are educated we elect Lalu Prasad Yadav, Mulayam and Mayawati. ” Uttar Pradesh most probably added another tar to its already besmirched image. Mayawati squandered 2k crore rupees for propagation of her bloody party. Shibu Shoren is marching for power in Jharkhand. People of Jharkhand either go for cheap dirt like “kuda” who ate more money than his whole relations could digest and shit in the morning, or killer like Shoren!

Mr. Rathod is yet to be arrested. Hope so he gets arrested before he dies of old age!
May all of you have a memorable 2010!

Traveling Sick!

In case I sum up the total distance I traveled last week, the longest train route shall be runners up in comparison! I started from Himachal on 10th, spend more than three hours on the following three days in DTC buses, and on 14th started from Delhi for Orissa; covering a major section on the axis of the seventh largest nation on the planet Earth. The first thing I did as soon as I entered my home was to apply a pain relief ointment on my already heavily swollen butts. They seem to be at rest while I am writing this post. At least they are not stiff any more!

A reprieve from my not so entertaining journey (well 30 hours continuous journey every six months takes a traveler out of even Edmund Hillary; and I am not Edmund Hillary!) were two beauties sitting 16 seats away and all I got as my neighbors were four military men who every five minutes had the habit of sparking an abuse from their mouth. My best moment was when one of the beauties came up to me and said, "excuse me".

Basically I was standing on the way to wash basin so she wanted me to give way.
I smiled and enthusiastically replied with a big smile on my face-“sure!”
Can you sit down with me and have a talk; and did some one ever tell you your nose is indeed very beautiful!

I wanted to stand and stare at her but thought of the scenario and the trouble I might end up in. Minutes later I saw her walking with a hefty body builder who would have rolled the lover/flirter out of me in a single smack! I took the clue and settled upon looking at person who was not injurious to my health. The four military men were at least not injurious till the night came in. They were drunk after that!

Thanks to chronicwriter I became a bathroom writer today(refer to his section on how to deal with competitons in love on post no 366). I wrote two phone numbers on the already wonderful beautiful walls of the Indian Railway bathrooms and added the name of X from my previous post in front of it. I seriously hope those two who at some stage gave me competition are enjoying attending calls from “avid readers”!

I reached home safe and sound. A special thanks to all the naxalites, terrorists, brothers and sisters of Headley, Kasab and alike for not knowing my train number.

First sign of maddness!

I had my final practical last week, and I was forced to believe Chetan Bhagat and Durjoy Datta had a tint of truth when they wrote their novels.

One of my practical final was of Microprocessor. We were group of four who were simultaneously called for viva-voce. I was sitting beside a 9.7 pointer who intermittently went into hysteria of definitions and explanations before the sitting. I was asked the first question,”what is microprocessor?” the question in itself was not difficult but I was expecting something better. I replied,’ err…microprocessor…is a processing unit which accepts input and gives us output. It can perform various logical and mathematical operations like addition, subtraction, multiplication etc…”

The invigilator asked X, the 9.7 pointer, “Would you like to add something?”

“Sure, sir” She took a long breath and fired away an answer similar to a volcano emanating from the mouth of Hungarian Horntail in Harry Potter. She fired in a single breath, “A microprocessor is a multipurpose, programmable, clock driven, register based electronic device that reads binary instructions from a storage device called memory accepts binary data as input and processes data according to those instructions and provides result as output.”

I was just on the verge of taking out my cell and calling the ambulance fearing she was going to have an attack of hypoxia.

My practical are finally over and I have my semesters coming from 2nd December, and I am planning to start the herculean task of studying as soon as I complete this blog. However, believe me it is pretty difficult to study especially when 1)you are surrounded by snow clad mountains who shriek whenever you pick up a course book-“dumb ass it is a crime not to sleep in this weather!”, and 2)when you are in love.

Unfortunately I have both these conditions applicable to me and my latest love is legendary. “Legendary” at its height! [Even Barny Stenson would have gasped after hearing it!] For one her name is Ananya Swaminathan (though I still have problems pronouncing her name properly. I am looking forward to Tamil classes these holidays) and two she is an imaginary girl who surfaced in the fourth book of Chetan Bhagat “two states”.

P.S. 1:-- I don’t need a psychologist or a psychiatrist; and ha in case you know the real person on whom Ananya is based please let me know! At least I can do something about my love problem!(I still have my fingers crossed for my papers and am open for help from the fellows going to sit around me in the semester papers.)

P.S. 2:-X is a real person of my class. I had kept in lieu of X her real name for a few hours, however tending to her objections i had to change it to X.[if you can read between the lines, i am afraid of litigation she might file against me. so better keep bay!]

The Third Hill ffair, or hill affair!!!

Boys are enslaves of two things (I am not talking of Rammuraari Dwivedi. He is an exception to this rule). Girls and the obvious things to be done with them! They earn to get a good girl, they show off to get a good girl, and they fool around to get a good girl. Good here never meant nature!

We had our Hill ‘ffair, our college’s cultural fest, the last week. As clearly the name suggests it is all about an-affair in the hill, or what the name wants to convey is “damn shit go and have an affair”. These three days belonged to two groups of people. The first group hunting someone to present a rose to someone, and the second group of which I was a part; I shall talk about the second elite group in the ending para.

Speaking from the point of experience which this hill ffair has taught me-befriend your friend who is planning to give a rose to a girl! In case he gets ditched he is going to get drunk and make your shoulders a wet handkerchief. One of my friend really did that! I had to abandon my sweater.

The three days of this ‘ffair are full of excitement, joy and being perky, for boys it goes pervy. We, here 'we' are the elite second group of gazers who find constellations and stars on the road rather than the sky. Given a chance with a telescope in an astronomical class, we shall be found focusing it on the girls’ hostel till the teacher bumps our head and makes us believe that spanking can lead to unequal butt! So ‘we’ find our stars on roads, and days and nights hardly make a difference. Gaurav, Davesh and I found a decent spot to star gaze on all the three Hill ‘ffair nights. Our fourth friend could be found sulking in one of the chairs. Thankfully, Davesh’s girl never saw him sitting with me. Bad for him; it was his once in a life time opportunity to be single again; and as far as Gaurav goes I hardly think he will ever manage to get a girl by himself. His godliness of saving water by not taking a bath makes him a special species which graces the earth rarely in centuries.

One a lighter note, our spoof sucked this time. I played the role of Hermoine in my last year Hill ffair, read the blog in which I am wearing a wig. People either were too dumb to catch the missing storyline, or we were too much imaginative while we made it. The only positive thing was we were spared from being hit with rotten tomatoes and eggs, though my friends, who gave me bumps for killing their time, made up for it! I made sure to pass them on to the directors of our spoof.

The fashion parade as usual sucked and it is no news. The dramatics came up with a few good events. They did not forget to joke the names of all the beauties that exist or ever existed in our college, and to come up with so many beauties really surprised me. How come I failed to observe them during my three years in this college! Believe me it is a scarce commodity. As economics puts it-”when supply is less demand is too high”. To put it without beating the bush dramatics just ended up a millimeter short of vulgarity!

One thing that surely catches the attention of all boys of our college is the otherwise not so good looking girls of their batch appear as angels on these three nights. It feels like falling in love with all these girls only for these three nights. As soon as I saw a girl the first thing that crossed my mind was to present her a rose and as I went towards the rose desk, to spend my dad's hard toiled 25 rupees on a single rose, I saw another one worth presenting a flower to making me forget who the first girl was. Oscillating between the dilemma of whom to present a flower to, I used the 25 rupees on a lavishing burger! Though ruing it when I saw the guest colleges coming.

Manish Bhatt made history this hill ffair. He gave thirty different roses to thirty different girls. The flowers got over when he went for the 31st one!

√2 is -"GET OUT FROM THE CLASS"

Wednesday was a pretty happening day...happening in the sense a lot of things happened not as good as I would have wished it to be, yet certainly happenings worth mentioning.

I had a class to attend at morning 10:20. I woke up late and reached the class door at 10:40. The teacher politely ridiculed me by saying, "aren't you a bit too early for the next class?"

The teachers don't realize it is hard to be on time when you have movies to watch till morning wee hours. Moreover, the next class was of a teacher who is named as Vinod with a sobriquet 'Voltage' attached by the geniuses of my class; he is a genius in the field he teaches, and he teaches us moral education and how to build up self esteem in his allotted period of Linear Integrated Circuits. So there was no chance I would come up that eagerly to attend a moral education class, unless my attendance is short.

I passed the rest half an hour ogling at passer-by's, especially if they were girls. The readers please pity the engineering college boys, because IIT's and NIT's have males and non-males. We don't have females.

I entered the class room when the class finished. Took out the Manticore's Secret and continued reading it from the page I had left. Reading to find out what happens next in the book is better than listening to a moral education lecture from 'voltage'. My parents are better suited at this task!

The teacher entered and tuned his brain to the 'sanskar' TV frequency and started a 'mini muraari baapu' show. It was somewhere after a while he caught me not listening to him. By the time he pointed me out and made me stand I shoved the book to the next guy sitting to me. I had been waiting for the exact words to be uttered and he uttered after a few minutes. 'Get out from the class!'

I enthusiastically moved out of the class room. Attendance of the day had been taken, and I was marked present.

Next class was of Digital Image Processing. A hairless guy, hairless not brainless this time, takes our class. He was a 9.5 something pointer when he was in college, and is considered intelligent by a better part of the students community. He is a nerd from my point of view.

I like him as a teacher. At least he teaches what is there in the subject and spares us the agony of listening to moral education lectures. He continued from where he had left in the last lecture. He wrote 'f1(x)=∑√2*f0(x)'

Well, most of the class sits blank in his lecture. His most of the teaching are OTH(over the head). I stood up and asked him how the roots over 2 come into picture. He tried to explain it, however I wasn't able to understand. He said come to my room later on, I will make you understand.

He continued with his teaching and derived two more formulae from the previous formula, and this really irritated me. Nearly ninety percent of the class doesn't know what the equation is, and out of the rest ten percent hardly one boy knows why the root over 2 came, and he continued with deriving the next formula using the √2 equation!

I took out the subject book, and started reading the portion where √2 's explanation was given. He saw me reading it and said, "If you can really understand from the book, why are you attending my lecture? Please leave the room.”

So basically, I was turned out of class twice today. Once for reading a novel and once for reading the book I should have been reading.